


The Graveyard Shift

by thegirlwiththeprettybrowneyes



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Amnesia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Ghosts, M/M, Magic, graveyards
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-02 20:44:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16312385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlwiththeprettybrowneyes/pseuds/thegirlwiththeprettybrowneyes
Summary: Andrew works at a graveyard, helping souls to move on. About a month ago, he fucked up. Badly.Now he can't trust himself, or anyone else, and the only people he can talk to are dead.Still, there's a new ghost around the graveyard and he's different. Somehow. Andrew just has to figure out how.





	1. Gray

Mrs. Henderson did not want to go to hell.

Andrew had learned a good many things from the ghost of Mrs. Henderson but first and foremost was that she did not want to go to hell. It followed most of her major statements, though she didn't do much talking anymore, none of the older ghosts did. Still, whenever she greeted Andrew it was  _ Hello young man _ . Then a moment of silence as she realized yet again that she was dead. Then a clipped, decided,  _ I don't want to go to hell. _

From what Andrew could tell, Mrs. Henderson was absolutely sure that her late husband had gone down into h-e-double-hockey-sticks since he was a  _ pardon my french dear, a no good, cheating sonuvabitch _ . She was certain that she would join him. Andrew didn't have the heart to tell her that if she was absolutely certain that she would go to hell, then that was probably where she would go.

Today was the day.

In the small kitchen of the morgue, Andrew packed up a picnic to take to Mrs. Henderson’s grave. A small jar of jam, a small wheel of cheese, a loaf of bread, a tin of shortbread cookies, and a bottle of wine.

Kevin walked in and surveyed Andrew as he prepared. He poured himself a coffee and held the pot out to Andrew in offering. Andrew shook his head and returned to his preparation. The first rays of sun were filtering through the window. Gray. Everything was gray in the morgue. The walls, the air, the corpses. Even the blank faces of the workers were gray in the morgue. Andrew didn't mind, he had been gray long before he had entered this place. It didn't feel stifling to him, like it did with some of the more colorful morgue workers, it felt like a confirmation of what he had already been.

“That's more food than usual,” Kevin said, breaking the silence. He had meant it to be conversational. It sounded accusatory instead. He wanted Andrew to look him in the eye.

“Henderson is Moving On today,” Andrew replied, not looking at Kevin. He could never look Kevin in the eye again. 

Kevin gave a  _ hmm _ of acknowledgement and continued to pour whiskey into his coffee. 

Andrew, as slowly as he could, raced out of the room, picnic in hand. He marched up the rows of graves, old and new, large and small, sleek and crumbling, until he got to Mrs. Henderson's. She was waiting for him there, dressed in her bloodstained Sunday best. What she had been wearing when her cab crashed.

“You're late.” she said.

“No, I'm not.” Andrew replied. 

Mrs. Henderson gasped as she realized. Then she furrowed a brow and lifted a warning finger. 

“I don't want to go to hell.”

Andrew sighed “I know, Mrs. Henderson. I brought you your food.”

“Alcohol?” Mrs. Henderson 

“Some wine. Eat your dinner if you want dessert.”

Mrs. Henderson helped him to set up the blanket and lay out the food. She had some cheese, he had some jam. It was a companionable silence. It was important to be good to the dead.

Andrew looked out over the graveyard. “Anything to declare?”

Mrs. Henderson shrugged “What does that mean?”

“If you don't say it, maybe no one else will ever say it.” Andrew shrugged back.

Mrs. Henderson took in the information and looked, with Andrew, over the graveyard. “I didn't want to die you know. But now that I've done it, I suppose it can't be helped.”

Andrew took in the information and nodded. “Well then, Mrs. Henderson-”

“Call me Joan.”

Andrew nodded again “All right. Joan. A toast to your life, and your death.”

They clinked their wine glasses and drank. Andrew took a sip, and Joan drained her glass.

They regarded each other a moment. The living that wanted to die and the dead that wanted to live. 

“Will it hurt?”

Andrew tilted his head “did dying hurt?”

“The injuries from the crash did,” Joan speculated. “But not dying.”

Andrew gestured vaguely.

Joan sighed “all right, I'm ready now,”

Andrew took one last sip of wine and readied himself. He tugged at something inside himself, the little irregular bits that had settled themselves in the far parts of his mind. He pulled them up to his heart, then focused them into his pointer finger. “Well Joan,” he began, placing his finger on her forehead. She closed her eyes and let out her last, shaky breath. Andrew said, surely and firmly “ _ Adieu _ .”

Joan Henderson passed peacefully, and Andrew poured out his wine. He packed up his food and the picnic blanket, and went back to the morgue.

Matt was waiting for him.

“How do you get them to go quietly?” he asked when Andrew set his things down. Andrew fished a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it up. An orange glow in this gray place. He didn't say anything, but Matt persevered. “They always fight me when I try to get them to Move On, I have to beg, how do you get them to Pass so quietly?”

Andrew took a drag from his cigarette and Matt sighed. “If you're headed to see Renee, I've got something for Dan. Could you drop it off for me?” Andrew held out his hand and Matt beamed. He rummaged in his bag dropped a powder blue envelope in Andrew's hand. “see you tonight.”

Andrew put it in his own bag and checked out of the morgue. The world was brighter outside of the graveyard, but Andrew was good enough only seeing it for a few hours each day. He drove over to the cafe where Renee and Dan worked. The building didn't look large, but he knew better. He entered through the back of the cafe’s kitchen.

“Delivery.” he called out sardonically. Dan turned and sighed. Andrew handed her the envelope from Matt as he headed to the counter.

From the counter, Renee turned and smiled. Andrew hated when she smiled at him like that, it made him feel like a fraud, making someone so happy when he was so awful. She greeted him with a cup of tea.

“There's Calm in this, so drink it slowly, or make sure you're sitting, or you'll fall asleep standing up.” Renee warned.

Andrew nodded, took the tea, and went up the stairs to the apartment.

The apartment above the cafe was less an apartment and more a rat’s nest that someone had placed on top of a cafe. The architecture changed by the day, suited to the needs of the owners.

Allison, Aaron, and Nicky were in the apartment and Nicky smiled as Andrew entered. Andrew dropped his bag by the foot of the door and Nicky's smile diminished a little. Andrew took a small sip of tea and felt the Calm wash over him, but there was a hint of something else. Contentment maybe, or- yes, that was it. There was a trace of Happiness in the tea. Andrew dropped the cup and watched the ceramic shards and tea fly over the floor.

There was a mangled cry and then “Jesus, Andrew!”

Andrew looked at Nicky and Nicky fell silent and sad. Andrew didn't like the way Nicky looked at him either. It wasn't the absolute faith Renee gave him, but concern. Pity. Andrew didn't want it. 

Aaron was already getting a mop and broom. He was used to cleaning up messes.

Allison looked furious.

Andrew didn't care. He walked to his room, shards crunching under his shoes. It looked like Andrew's room was a tower today. He climbed a spiral staircase into a dark room. He was exhausted. He kicked his shoes off and fell into his bed.

He started at his door and heard someone coming up the temporary stares. Allison threw his door open, took in his windowless dungeon and scoffed in disgust. 

“Of course you're fucking moping, what else would I expect.”

Andrew felt himself hardening to stone under Allison's gaze. “Go away Allison.”

“No. Why did you drop the cup.”

Andrew frowned “Renee spiked my tea.”

“No, I spiked your tea. You've been like this for a week. We're all worried about you.” Allison crossed the room in two deft strides and crouched down so that she was on face level with Andrew. “This has to stop.”

“You don’t get it.” Andrew said. 

“No, you don't get it.” Allison snapped. “We all fail. Even you. And you need to let this one go.”

“You wouldn't be saying that if it was Seth.” said Andrew, hitting where he knew it would hurt.

A look of betrayal flitted over Allison's face, followed by one of pain, followed by hardened anger. “Listen, you pompous ass. Seth is dead. Kevin is not, no matter how guilty you are about what happened, and the faster you get that into your obstinate little head, the better.” 

Andrew turned in his bed to face the wall. He found himself wanting a window, to let some light in. And so, one appeared, but it showed the world outside in grayscale. 

Allison sighed, and her voice sounded from the door now. “You know, you can lash out and try to distance yourself all you want. We're not going to stop caring about you. But we will tell you to get your head out of your ass and get your fucking job done. What happened to Kevin was not your fault. He doesn't blame you. No one blames you except you.”

And with that, she was gone. Andrew turned, and in Allison’s place was a mended cup of tea. Calm laced with Happiness. Andrew took it, stared into it for a moment, then downed it like a desperate man. His consciousness flickered in the way of a dying candle, before fading.

* * *

 

_ Kevin was laughing at something Andrew had said. Andrew wasn't laughing, but he was pleased that Kevin was laughing. _

_ “Hey, Andrew,” Kevin grinned, drunk on giddiness. _

_ “Yes?” _

_ Kevin moved in close, very close, the tips of their noses touched, giggling all the while. “I like your face.” _

_ Andrew laughed. “I would hope.” Then he closed the distance between them. _

* * *

 

When Andrew awoke, he didn't remember what he had dreamt. Just that the dream had been vaguely comforting. He checked the clock. Time for work. He descended the spiral staircase and noted that there were fifteen fewer steps this time. 

Nicky was down in the cafe, mixing luck and charm into pie dough. Aaron had grown hope into some blueberries. It would be the perfect pie for presentations or auditions or job interviews. Andrew snuck a peach that had been grown with comfort. He didn't know if he would eat it or give it to Kevin. One of them had to move on. 

Maybe it was time to take Allison's advice.

“Hey Allison?” Andrew called in to the kitchen.

Allison's head popped up from around a cooling rack of pastries.

“Thanks. Fuck you, but thanks.”

“Fuck you too, Minyard, now get out of here, the sun’s setting and your shift starts soon.”

Andrew was at the morgue within minutes. Kevin was waiting for him and Andrew rummaged around in his bag for the peach. He handed it to Kevin.

Kevin looked at Andrew like he wanted to say something.

“Just take the peach, Kevin.”

Kevin just took the peach.

Andrew walked in and deposited his bag into his locker. The roster for today was no different than any other day. No one would be Moving On today, but there was one new soul that Andrew would have to re-orient.

Andrew pulled a loaf of bread from the pantry and cut it into thick slices. The only magic in the bread was some Stability that Matt had baked into it. It helped new souls to gain awareness of their surroundings.

Andrew decided to deal with the new ghost first. He trudged up the hill to the newly dug grave. The moon rose slowly, but surely, and so did the ghost.

Andrew was ready to offer his meager portion of bread, but the ghost looked at him and he froze. Piercing blue eyes looked back at him. For one haunting moment, they stared at each other, and Andrew was afraid that someone had made a mistake, that this boy was alive.

Then the boy ran right through him.

There was an instant, when he and the boy occupied the same place in the universe, and Andrew felt more complete than he had ever felt. Then the boy pushed through him and Andrew just felt cold.

The boy was fast, he was running down the hill, pushing through gravestones and trees, just trying to get out. Andrew walked after him, slowly, leisurely. The Border would stop him. 

Andrew watched the boy reach the edge of the graveyard, bang into an invisible wall, and reel back. The boy put his hands on the barrier, he banged on it desperately, and when it was made clear that he wouldn’t be escaping any time soon, he crumpled to his knees. His right hand banging rhythmically, pitifully, against The Border.

Andrew made his way down the hill, swinging his picnic basket. He moved to stand next to the beautiful ghost boy. 

“Better luck next time,” Andrew offered, as a meaningless comfort.

“Fuck you,” The boy replied, and his voice sounded wretched and torn, like he was about to cry.

Well, Andrew had a job to do. He crouched next to the boy and took him into his own arms. The boy stiffened, then relaxed into Andrew’s grip. His shoulders shook with the sobs only a ghost could shed. There was a realization that ghosts had, where they find out that everything that was meaningful when they were alive, loses meaning in death. That everything they had ever worked towards would never be achieved. That they were dead. This realization was usually followed by tears of the sort that each person cries when they are born, and thrust into a world that doesn’t care about them.

Andrew let him cry. If he shed a few tears as well, the ghost boy would not say anything.

The dead tell no tales, after all.


	2. Blue

 

“He’s not my problem,” Andrew told Matt. “Unfinished business. Yours.”

“I'm telling you. All he needs is some re-orienting, and then he's good to Pass. I swear.” Matt pleaded.

“Don't swear on anything you can afford to lose, Boyd, he's not ready yet. The moment he came to, he took off for the street, he's got things to finish, so help him out.” Andrew finished and walked out to the graveyard. He heard some scuffling from behind him that meant Matt was following him.

In a lot of ways, Matt had a harder job than Andrew. Fewer souls than people thought died with unfinished business. It wasn't that a lot of people died with things unfinished, it was just that paying your bills or finishing your screenplay weren't really important when you were dead. Still, Matt was the person who carried out the promises that the dead could no longer keep. He finished what they had left unfinished. 

Andrew's job was a little easier. He served as a confidant. A consultant. A friend to the dead. He let them say everything they needed, eat the things they never got to try, learn the songs they always wanted to play. And when they were ready to go, well, he would help them with that too.

Andrew marched up the hill to the grave of the little running ghost boy. He was sitting on his gravestone, looking at the black sky. There was no moon in the sky tonight. The boy had pinpointed exactly where the moon was and was staring at the dark area with a puzzled look on his face.

“You can see it? The moon?” Andrew asked, when he got up the hill. The boy didn't look away, but he replied. His mouth moved as if he didn’t realize he was speaking.

“Is that normal?”

“For some.” conversation always flowed easier with the dead. They would be gone soon enough, which removed all the gravity from their secrets, and Andrew would never have to worry about his own secrets being spilled, no one they were spilled to would ever have any effect on him. “I have a new friend for you.”

That did prick the ghost boy's attention. He fixed those blue, blue, blue eyes on Andrew and Andrew's breath caught. Matt wasn't far now.

“Matthew Boyd.” the ghost boy said. The dead knew all names.

“Well that's hardly fair.” Andrew said “what's your name, Casper? It's all right if you don't remember, it might take a while for you to remember.”

“Casper?”

“The friendly ghost.”

The ghost snorted “I like it.” Matt finished climbing the hill.

“Hi, I'm Matt. We're going to be seeing a lot of each other. Do you remember your name?” Straight to business. Matt was like that, even if he did like to keep it light. Working with the dead manifested itself in different ways in different people. It made Andrew softer, kinder, more talkative. It made Kevin- no. Andrew was not thinking about Kevin. Working with the dead made Matt sadder, and to combat that, Matt was aggressively kind and businesslike.

“I don't” Casper said. “but Andrew Minyard called me Casper. I like the name.”

That startled a laugh out of Matt. “All right. Have you eaten?”

“I had some bread. It was nice.”

Matt beamed at the praise. He took pride in his magic.

Andrew turned to leave, but he felt a feeling around his wrist. A cold hand around his wrist. The world flashed with color for an instant, the deep blue of the sky, a yellow moon, the stars twinkled in rainbow hues, before it faded back to black and Andrew turned to face Casper. 

“Where are you going?” Casper asked, fixing Andrew with another one of those blue-eyed stares. 

“Work.”

Neil frowned.

Andrew didn't care. He turned and walked down the hill. 

* * *

 

Andrew was taking his food break on the roof. The one place Kevin wouldn't try to corner him.

Andrew said he would try to move on. He did not say he would try to make nice with his ex.

He watched the cars fly down the road. They didn't look that small, Andrew couldn't make them seem insignificant to him. Each of those cars had a person in it, and that person would die one day. Maybe Andrew would meet them, maybe he wouldn't. Maybe they took this route every day, maybe they didn't. Andrew tried not to care,  but he couldn't erase the significance of all the human beings that had been alive while he ate his lunch.

The only people out at this hour of night were travelling businessmen and party animals. And Andrew. 

But Andrew didn't matter. 

It was a dulled pain he was feeling just then. Like what one felt a minute after someone hit their arm hard enough to bruise. The memory of pain, but the absence of it. Andrew wanted to poke at his bruised memories, but letting them heal would be better for everyone involved.

He heard footsteps and for a moment he thought Kevin had finally got tired of waiting for Andrew to get off his ass. But it was the new ghost that had joined him.

Andrew walked through him and down the stairs. He wasn't dealing with this before he had finished his lunch.

“Wait!-” the ghost called as Andrew climbed down to where Kevin and Matt were eating. Andrew stormed along. Casper floated through him and stopped in front of him, solidifying himself so Andrew couldn’t walk through him again. 

Then his eyes flickered to the left of Andrew. Andrew turned to see what he was looking at.

Kevin was standing behind them, holding a half-eaten peach. The fruit tumbled in slow motion out of his hand.

“Nathaniel?”

“Kevin.”

Andrew looked between the two. Nathaniel was looking at Kevin like he was a lifeline, Kevin was looking at Nathaniel like he was the iceberg that would sink him.

Andrew looked down at the peach on the concrete floor. He waved a hand and a small tree sprouted from it. It would die soon, but it would be beautiful first. Kevin looked at him.

Andrew took in Kevin's confused face and looked away. 

“Don’t look at me like that, Kevin.” Andrew tried hard not to think about another time he had said the exact same thing.  _ Don't look at me like that, Kevin _ , between open-mouthed kisses and lazy cuddles. “I don't know who he is.”

“Nathaniel.” the ghost sounded out slowly. “bit long, isn't it? Sounds like a fancy name.”

“I agree!” said Matt, eager to break the tension. “We could shorten it. Nathan?”

“No!”

Kevin and Nathaniel had said it at the same time.

“O...okay.” Matt looked at Andrew. Andrew shrugged. “Neil?”

Neil nodded. He became a little bit more solid. It was working. The more solid he became, the closer he got to Moving On. Andrew once again turned to leave.

No one stopped him this time.

* * *

 

“...I think it was because I didn't want to be alive.” the ghost recounted. She was young. It was a pity she had died.

“Well. Now you aren't.”

“My name was Jason, when I was alive.”

“Hmm.” Andrew acknowledged.

“It's Mia, now.”

“Hmm.” Andrew acknowledged.

“You are a good listener, Andrew Minyard.”

“Just Andrew.”

“You are a good listener Just Andrew.”

Andrew cursed the logic of the dead.

“I have to go soon.”

“Go now, Just Andrew. I'm done with you.”

Mia descended into her grave. She would be Moving On soon. Andrew looked into the cookie tin, only to find that Mia had taken the last cookie. He cast an annoyed look at the grave and sighed. 

The sun was coming, though it had not yet peeked up over the horizon.

He looked down to the morgue to see Kevin through the window, pretending not to be watching him. Andrew smiled in spite of himself. Kevin was terrible at stealth.

“So, when did you two start dating?” asked a voice from behind him. Andrew tried not to flinch, he turned to see the new ghost, Neil.

His hair shown with yellow moonlight from a moon Andrew could not see. He was beautiful.

Andrew frowned when he registered the question. “While back”

Neil frowned when he registered the answer “and when did you two stop dating?”

Andrew looked away. He didn't want to have this conversation. “Not a while back.”

“Why?”

Andrew wasn't giving this to him for free, no matter how much he wanted to. It must have been this boy’s magic. “How do you know Kevin?”

“Childhood friend. He was one of the only people I knew that could do magic.” Neil absentmindedly sent some sparks down his knuckles.

Andrew bit his lip at the mention of Kevin's magic. “That means you knew-”

“Riko. Yes. Do you?” Neil asked Andrew. Andrew watched Neil grow more solid.

Andrew looked back at the window Kevin was gone now. Performing an autopsy. Taking inventory probably. Andrew had put him there. Not even fulfilling half of his potential. A shell of what he used to be. “More than I wanted to.”

“What did he do?”

“Something I fixed. That's why we broke up. Kevin and I. He didn't exactly like my solution.” Neil grew a few shades more concrete. “Guess we found your unfinished business.”

“What?” Neil asked.

“Look at your arm. You can't see through it as much anymore.” Neil followed his instructions.

He looked even more alive now. He wasn't losing color like the rest of the ghosts did when they became solid.

“Well. Would you look at that.” Neil deadpanned.

“That means you're making progress, dumbass. You've got to keep talking about your life.”

“What will I get in return?”

Andrew already had an answer “my secrets.”

“I bet you tell that to all the pretty ghosts.” Neil teased.

“They all Move On anyway, my secrets don't lose any value when I tell them to ghosts.” Andrew explained.

“Then of what value are they to me, Andrew Minyard?”

“Call me Andrew.”

“My question still stands, Andrew. Tell me something good.”

The sun was almost over the horizon. Andrew didn't have much time to come up with something.

“I'm waiting” Neil's voice lilted.

Andrew opened his mouth to answer as the first rays of sun hit Neil's body. His physical form disappeared, but Andrew could still feel his presence. 

It was easier, now that he couldn't see Neil. Almost like he was talking to air. Andrew spoke to air easier than he spoke to pretty ghosts.

“I'm the one who took Kevin's magic.”


	3. Green

“Welcome to The Foxhole Court. May I take your order?” Andrew stared blankly.

A blonde woman with a crystal and feather necklace smiled. “The Foxhole Court. That's a strange name for a cafe, isn't it?”

“No. Your order?” Andrew prompted again.

“A large, vanilla iced coffee with cream, sugar.” she looked around and lowered her voice “and a little Luck, please.” 

“Name?”

“Abby”

Andrew pumped the vanilla syrup and cream into the coffee cup and put in the ice before pouring over the coffee. He always got better tips when he was extra careful to make the drinks look pretty. He focused some Luck into his fingers and flicked the cup. The coffee shuddered and then sat still.

“Abby!” Andrew called.

Abby collected her order and inspected the spellwork. She smiled and fished around in her pocket for something. She produced a black business card.

“For your coven.” she said, and walked out of the coffee shop with her drink. Andrew pocketed the card.

* * *

 

Renee was in the garden on the roof. The foxes had figured out (in large part thanks to Andrew) that the roof was an underutilized space, and so, had put a garden on it.

It was only really a garden because that was what everyone called it. 

It was more a general assortment of plants with various medicinal and magical properties that decided to grow wherever they wanted. It got weeded and watered regularly, but aside from that, no one really maintained it. Still, it had become Renee's haunt of choice.

Renee was pulling ill wishes from the air. She would sit still, eyes closed, on the floor, surrounded by plants. Breathing and trying to sense an Insult or a Bad Mood before it struck some poor nobody.

The morning rush was the perfect time to hunt for ill wishes. Especially in the city. Traffic was the best place to find annoyed commuters wishing that  _ the annoying jerk that cut me off would go hurl themself off a- _

Andrew's hand snapped up and closed around the angry thought. It hardened in his hand and Andrew opened his palm to reveal a dense, heavy black crystal. It was heavier than it looked, and shiny, but the light seemed to bend around it. It wouldn’t catch light. Hate, even in its most minor forms, never did.

“Thanks for catching that, Andrew! I thought I missed it.” Renee beamed. “Come, drop it in the water.” 

Andrew dropped the crystal into the bucket of black water in front of Renee, the ill wish fell like a lead ingot into the bucket, not even splashing, then dissolved instantly. The water, impossibly dark already, somehow became darker.

It turned out, curses made excellent fertilizer.

“This is for you,” Andrew said, pulling the business card out of his pocket.

Renee took the card, then she shook it out like she was fanning herself, or trying to shake something off of it. The card unfolded and unfurled to reveal a long, large piece of paper. A letter of some sort.

“Hmm.” Renee said, looking at the letter. “It’s not for me.”

“Who is it for, then?”

“We’ll gather the coven tonight before you leave for work to find out,” Renee said, she patted the ground next to her. “Sit. Help me out if you won’t sleep.”

Andrew obliged, and Renee re-folded the business card.

They sat in silence, their hands occasionally snapping up to catch a harmful thought before it hurt someone, and drop it into the bucket. At some point, Andrew had rested his head on Renee's shoulder and fallen asleep.

* * *

 

_ “Come on Andrew, it'll be easy! Just jump.” Riko called from the roof of other building. Andrew was right across from him on the other skyscraper, hyperventilating and desperate. “Jump, and I'll tell you where Kevin is!” There was a manic glint in Riko's eye. _

_ “I jump, you jump, asshole!” Andrew called back. He was shaking. _

_ “Jump? Me?” Riko cackled. “I’m not crazy!” _

_ “I beg to differ.” Andrew muttered. He walked up to the ledge and stared down. His heart was racing and his chest was heaving. He looked back up to Riko, who was smiling like a maniac. _

_ Andrew closed his eyes and stepped off the roof. He clamped his lips shut and closed his eyes as he fell. He would not grant Riko the satisfaction of hearing him scream. _

_ Kevin. As he fell he thought of Kevin. That idiot had better thank him when Andrew found him. _

_ The ground was a cold, hard eventuality, but his wards were up. The only thing that was lost was the air on his lungs. Andrew sucked in air, in and out and in and out, until he had the strength to look up to the roof where Riko was standing. _

_ “You know what?” Riko called. “I've changed my mind.” _

* * *

 

Andrew jerked up from Renee's shoulder. 

“You were out for an hour.” was all Renee said. “You should go to your room and sleep more.”

Andrew grunted and stood up.

“It wasn't your fault.” Renee said silently.

“Stay out of my head.” Andrew replied as he walked into the building.

Dan was headed up the stairs. When she saw him, she let out a breath. She heaved, like something had been cutting off her oxygen.

“A Pulling?” Andrew asked. 

“It would seem,” Dan replied. “I was taking out the trash.’

Andrew winced. A Pulling was when magic called you somewhere so much that it began to have physical symptoms, usually a constriction of the lungs or in some extreme cases, seizures. Dan must have raced up the stairs, not able to breathe the entire time. The reasons for a Pulling were usually nonsensical in the moment, but extremely important in hindsight.

“To me?” He asked

“It would seem.” Dan repeated. “I was taking out the trash.”

Andrew nodded and started to descend the stairs to help Dan take out the trash.

It wasn’t clear how many stories the Foxhole Court had. It varied from day to day. Minute to minute really. But the stairs were a lot shorter going down than going up. They exited to the alley next to the foxhole and got to work.

Lifting the heavy trash bags were a lot easier with two people. When they had disposed of all their trash, Andrew and Dan leaned back against the walls of the alley.

Andrew pulled out his pack of cigarettes and Dan scoffed.

“One day, you’re going to be diagnosed with lung cancer, and I am going to be there for you, but first, I will tell you that I told you so.”

“Fuck my lungs” Andrew said, monotoned. Dan chuckled and shook her head. The reason for the Pulling should be made clear in Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

“Fuck.” Dan said. “It’s Moreau,”

Andrew launched himself off the wall.

Dan did too, but for a different reason. She moved closer to Andrew, ready to hold him back at any moment. That was fine. Andrew didn’t intend to cause a scene.

Jean Moreau was as tall and pale as the last time Andrew saw him. And five times as haughty. He was looking at Andrew and Dan like he knew they would be there. He stood in his tailored suit and bronze jewelry. He looked rich, but not rich enough to make people forget about the bronze chain tied around his ankle, trailing back on the sidewalk, as far as the eye could see.

“You have something that belongs to us.” He said in his soft, accented voice.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Dan growled from behind Andrew.

“Fly away, Raven man,” Andrew agreed. Jean looked at him and flinched. Andrew didn’t decrease the potency of his glare.

“The ghost.” Jean continued as if they hadn’t spoken “Nathaniel. He is ours. Someone will be sent to collect him in three weeks time.”

And oh, wasn’t that interesting? The new ghost that knew Kevin had something to do with the Ravens. Andrew revised anything he knew about the ghost in his head. He must have died much more recently than Andrew thought.

“You know we can’t just hand a ghost over to you, right?” Dan said. “You can’t just threaten us into-” 

“I’m not threatening you.” Jean said. “I’m warning you. Make him Move On before then, and we’ll have nothing. No one will be punished.” Jean adjusted his coat sleeves. “I’m here to repay my debts, Minyard. We’re even.”

“We will never be even.” Andrew replied.

Jean opened his mouth, as if to argue, and walked back inside.

* * *

 

The foxes gathered around the table. Allison, Dan, Aaron, Nicky, Renee, and Andrew were all staring at the letter that Abigail Winfield had left.

They were never all in the same place like this. They should have been talking. Speaking about literally anything.

Instead, they all just stared.

Allison looked around “Okay, so I’m just going to say it, can anybody read this thing?”

“No,”

“Nope,”

“Nuh-uh”

“Sorry, nothing,”

Andrew shook his head.

“Great so it’s for Matt, then” Dan said agreeably. No one wanted to mention the elephant in the room.

“Or-” Nicky started. “Never mind”

There were a few beats.

Everyone was silent.

Andrew looked around. Dared anyone to say anything.

“Or it could be for Kevin,”

“Nicky! Come on!”

“What?” Nicky said “It’s not exactly common knowledge that Kevin left the coven. He’s gone now, I know, but nobody knows that! The ravens took care of him.”

“Speaking of the ravens…” Dan began, reluctantly. Her arm crept up towards her hair. She explained the situation. Moreau. Nathaniel. The impending war.

“Oh no…” Allison said, resignedly. Her hand crept up towards her face.

Andrew cleared his throat and the room jumped in surprise. 

“Well.” He said. “Looks like I’m going to have a hell of a night at work."


	4. Black

Andrew pulled up to the graveyard with a mission. Two, really, but reconnaissance was less a mission and more day-to-day business.

Kevin was looking at him from the window, and when he saw Andrew exiting the car, he hurriedly looked away, as if he thought Andrew wasn't looking at him right back. 

He was. Kevin was stupid to think Andrew wasn't looking. Of course he was looking at Kevin, it was impossible not to look at Kevin. Even now with that dulled look in his eyes and that grim set to his mouth... Andrew felt an uncomfortable clenching in his stomach so he looked away. The clenching didn't stop.

Nathaniel wouldn't be out for a while, and he would be with Matt while Andrew worked, so Andrew had more time to come up with a game plan.

If he really had to, he would swallow his pride and ask Kevin about Nathaniel. Still, he doubted that Nathaniel would lie to him. The dead kept their deals.

He entered the building with Abby Winfield’s business card in his hand and a letter that Dan had sent for Matt. Matt was walking in from the graveyard.

Andrew gave him Dan's letter, which Matt snatched up like he would never see it. 

Andrew couldn't blame him.

Matt and Dan hadn't ever seen each other. No one but Dan knew who exactly had cursed her, but Dan had been cursed at birth to never meet her true love. It had taken a year for Dan and Matt to realize that they still hadn’t crossed paths, despite living in the same house. It took them another three months to realize why. They started sending each other messages after that, leaving gifts and letter in each other’s rooms. Then the Kevin incident happened and Matt had to move to the graveyard.

They were cleaning up after Andrew’s mistakes, it was the least he could do to be their messenger once in a while.

Andrew shook out the business card to reveal the letter and handed that to Matt as well. “Can you read this?” 

Matt shook his head.

Andrew sighed. “Great.”

Kevin picked the perfect moment to show up. Andrew slapped the letter into Kevin's chest, beckoned Matt to follow him, and walked out. 

The night air was crisp and cold. Andrew sucked in a breath so deep that it hurt. The air rushed down into his lungs and made a home there, before being abruptly pushed out through Andrew's mouth and nose in a smoker's exhale.

Andrew sometimes thought that breathing was just as addictive as nicotine.

Then he had a cigarette and remembered that only nicotine was as addictive as nicotine.

Matt followed him out and Andrew pointed up to Nathaniel’s grave.

“Be careful with that one.” he warned. “When you're done with him, send him to me. The ravens have business with him.”

“The Ravens.” Matt sighed. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Because the new guy just exudes trouble? Because he knows Kevin? Because it’s always the ravens?” Andrew suggested.

Matt grimaced and nodded “With a side of divine intervention.”

“Well, fate’s a bitch, but karma is worse,” Andrew said it like he was giving a toast.

“Here here,” Matt agreed.

They shared a nod and got to work.

* * *

 

“So do you know what happens to me after I Move On?” Charles asked. He was a kind old man. No one in his family had come to his funeral.

“I don't’.” Andrew answered honestly. “For you, anyway.”

“What will it be for you?” Charles inquired. He was sweet enough, Andrew felt fine enough telling him.

“Rest.” Andrew answered. It wasn’t a lie. He never lied to the dead, it just wasn’t the full truth.. “My afterlife will be eternal rest. I’ve had too much in life to want anything in death.”

Charles looked at him and his eyes glimmered with understanding only the dead had. The dead understood a great lot more than humans did. “You are very young. Andrew Minyard. Younger than most to want rest.”

“You are very old, Charles.” Andrew replied. It wasn’t rude. The dead did not much care for manners. “Everyone looks young to you. And even I am older than I look. Do you want rest?”

“I think I might want to see my Ethel. You don’t realize how much you take for granted when you think someone will live forever.”

Ethel was not Charles’s wife, but his dog. The man had loved her more than anything when she was alive.

“Well, I hope you’ll see Ethel.” Andrew wished.

“Go in peace, Andrew Minyard,”

“And you, Charles.”

Charles faded and Andrew sat for a while.

Andrew snorted. _ You don’t realize how much you take for granted when you think someone will live forever _ . A joke, but not a funny one.

“What’s so funny?” asked a voice from behind him.

Neil.

“You always find me at the most inopportune times, Casper.” Andrew replied. He cast out his magic, searching for threads of  ideas floating off his head.

“Oh,” began Neil, floating through andrew so that he could sit on Charles’s grave. “Is it Casper again?”

“It was a name you gave me. What would you rather be called?” Andrew tested the strength of his magic and pulled some names out of Neil’s head. “Alex? Stefan? Chris?”

Neil reared back, as if it would stop Andrew from hearing his thoughts.

“Now,” Andrew began “I may be wrong, but isn’t that an awful lot of names for one person?”

Neil frowned. Andrew took in his appearance. Even now, he was more solid than when Andrew last saw him. Getting him to Move On might be easier than Andrew first thought. “Stay out of my head.” He growled, he wasn’t angry, just nervous.

The tension in the air was palpable, Andrew could see it. Andrew reached out and pulled a crackling thread of energy from the tension and tossed it in the air, away from them. Neil let out a breath as the tension left. The corners of Andrew's lips quirked up.“Calm down, you’re not in trouble, I’m just trying to understand.”

“Understand what?” Neil asked. Not angrily, the dead were rarely angry, but curiously.

“The ravens will come collect you in three weeks time.” Andrew said, and that startled Neil. He became paler, if that was possible, and began to disappear. “Unless we can get you to Move On in three weeks time.”

Neil nodded and stopped trying to leave. “Okay, what’s the problem?”

“You obviously haven’t worked with the dead before. We usually get people to Move On in two months. No matter how well-adjusted you are, you aren’t going to finish all your unfinished business and come to terms with your own mortality in three weeks.”

Neil shrugged and waved him off. “Don’t need to, just send me off now, I’ll be on my way if you need me to.”

“Trust me, I would if I was allowed.” Andrew deadpanned. His honesty startled a smile from the ghost. “Still. That's not how we do things around here. Leaving you stranded to swim or drown your own way to the afterlife doesn't really sound appealing to me.”

“Surely there are exceptions? People who already have their affairs in order?” Neil asked hopefully.

Andrew rolled his eyes. “If you were an exception, you would have already Moved On.” Neil wasn't special. Not that kind of special anyway. Something told Andrew that Neil wasn't completely ordinary.

“What can we do then?” Neil asked.

“Well, depends on what you want. It's not ideal, but if you do want to go with the Ravens-”

“No.” Neil interrupted.

Andrew nodded. He couldn't exactly say he was surprised. “We could go through the ‘accepting your death’ crash course.”

Neil grimaced “Pass.”

“Because you can't do it or because you wont?”

Neil grinned “No difference, now”

“We're still looking for solutions, then.” Andrew replied.

“Hmm. You do that. But I had better leave, your boyfriend is headed out.”

Andrew scowled and turned to face Kevin as Neil disappeared. “He's not my boyfriend.”

Kevin was frantically subdued. Andrew could feel the race of his heart, the shortness of his breath, the panic of his thoughts. Kevin had very carefully hidden it all under a mask of collectedness. This was probably about the letter.

“What did it say?” Andrew asked.

“You know, this and that. Abby is a nurse that lives on the other side of the city. She uses magic to help her out at her job-”

“The spark notes version, Kevin I haven't got all night.”

“She works with my father.”

Andrew's thoughts all flew out of his head.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

Andrew looked at the sliver of moon in the sky. It looked like it was smiling at him. Not in the way a friend smiled when they saw someone they liked, but the way a snake smiled when it caught sight of its prey. “And who is it?”

Kevin's eyes clenched shut. “David Wymack.”

David Wymack, otherwise known as Coach. Grand Magic Overseer of the city. He was essentially the city's most important police officer. Except twice as powerful and with twice the paycheck. He rubbed elbows daily with the kind of people that most magicians only dreamed about meeting. And he had known Kayleigh Day, the first High Charmer in history.

Apparently he had known her much better than anyone thought.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Kevin agreed “Oh.”

“Did he know?” Andrew asked

“Apparently not.”

The air around them was chilly and Andrew tried sucking in a breath. He wanted a smoke.

“So what are you going to do now?” Andrew asked.


	5. Purple

Andrew turned over to the counter where Nicky was waiting. Nicky was bouncing on his heels and seemingly waiting for Andrew, which meant that the good news was for him.

Andrew immediately put his guard up.

“Welcome to the Foxhole Court, may I take your order?”

Nicky scoffed “Come on, Andrew.”

“Order something, or leave me alone.”

“Fine, fine, give me a slice of that Agility cake Dan baked, I've been feeling clumsy lately”

Andrew held his hand out for Nicky to pay.

“You're going to make me pay for it?!”

Andrew's hand didn't waver.

With a grumble, Nicky reached for his wallet. “Okay, so I dropped by the morgue to try and beg Kevin to come back. Hey, hey, hey. Don't look at me like that, I miss him too and I'm desperate.”

Andrew averted his gaze and handed Nicky the slice of cake.

“And I met the new ghost, and he is _fine_. I might hit that if I see him again.”

Andrew scoffed and turned to go into the kitchen. He had no interest in what his cousin might or might not hit.

“Anyway, I need you to be at the house on Sunday.”

Andrew gave Nicky his best unimpressed look. “Why.”

“Because you love me. Just do it.”

Andrew shrugged.”Okay.”

Then Andrew felt the strangest feeling, it was like someone was pulling a rope tied around his stomach, and he had to follow, or it would cut off his oxygen until either it broke, or he did.

Andrew turned to Nicky. “Are you working?”

“No, why?”

Andrew pushed himself up and launched over the bar. He rose and turned to Nicky.

“You are now.”

Nicky groaned as Andrew raced to the door of the cafe.

“Pulling.” Andrew coughed out.

“Oh. _Oh._ Yeah, I've got the counter.” Nicky nodded. He hurried Andrew along. “Go Go Go!”

Andrew was in half a mood to round the building, head upstairs, and use the lack of oxygen to force himself asleep, but it was unwise to ignore a Pulling. Especially one this strong.

Andrew walked, as briskly as he could, to the source of the Pulling. The tugging came harder and soon Andrew was running. He was racing down the street, his breath coming out in quick puffs, and not coming back into his lungs in a high enough quantity.

He found his car, fumbled with the latch, jumped in, and drove towards the Pulling, through the crowded streets of the city, his lungs burning without enough air.

He finally ended up back at the cemetery, Kevin was waiting for him outside the building. Andrew was wheezing, sucking in all the air he could.

The Pulling did not lessen.

Andrew pushed past him and rushed into the building. Matt was at the table. Andrew's head snapped to him.

The Pulling did not lessen.

Andrew couldn't breathe anymore.

Andrew raced outside and saw a familiar figure on the hill. The corners of his vision were blurry.

Aaron was there, freaking out over something.

The something was Neil, who was choking.

The Pulling stopped.

Andrew was racing up the hill, he didn't have time to catch his breath, he would help and then he would pass out.

“What happened?” he was mouthing at Aaron, no sound would come out. He tried again and the words came out in a rasp.

“He called me Andrew.” Aaron replied, the only thing calm about him was his voice. “I tried to help but my hand went right through him”.

Andrew cursed in his head. Ghosts couldn't call anything a name it didn't want to be called.

Other ghosts had begun to pop out of their own graves, weaker in daylight, but curious.

“Aaron, tell Neil he is forgiven,”

“You are forgiven” Aaron replied immediately.

Some of the choking lessened.

“You are forgiven,” Andrew rasped as well.

The last thing he saw before he fainted was the blue of Neil's eyes.

* * *

 

 

_The man in the red and gold leather jacket smiled sadly at Andrew._

_“How long has he been.. like this?”_

_Andrew looked back at Kevin. Heart no longer beating, lungs no longer breathing._

_Dead._

_“Six hours.”_

_Jeremy Knox hummed thoughtfully. His hand moved, almost unconsciously to rub his thumb against his lip._

_Andrew frowned. “Is that alright.”_

_“It's fine, as long as magic rot hasn't set in yet.”_

_“Renee set stability wards.”_

_“Good.” Jeremy said “Good.” He moved to Kevin's corpse, laid cold and calm upon the autopsy table._

_“And-” Andrew continued._

_“And?”_

_Andrew sighed and looked away “I'm calling in a favor.”_

_Jeremy gestured expansively at Kevin's dead body. “This doesn't count as calling in a favor?”_

_“You want Kevin alive as much as I do,” Jeremy and Kevin had been friends since before Kevin had met Andrew. Jeremy had been the only one of Kevin's friends that Andrew had liked. “and besides, you're going to want to do the favor.”_

_Jeremy frowned and conceded. “What is it?”_

_Andrew called Moreau in._

_The Frenchman was nursing about fifty bruises, a broken arm, and a pained expression. Riko had tried to kill him. Still, he stood with an unmistakable grace. A refinement that couldn't be anything but natural. He was Jeremy's true love._

_Jeremy looked at him, first with pity, then with confusion, then strained recognition, and then finally awe._

_Jeremy understood. He smiled in spite of himself and shook Andrew's hand gratefully. “You can keep your goddamn favor, I should be thanking you.”_

_“He doesn't know and he's kind of banged up right now.” Andrew told him. “Ease him into it, if you're going to tell him now.”_

_Jeremy looked at Moreau and looked back at Andrew, his face now unreadable. “What makes you think he doesn't know?”_

_“What makes you think he does?”_

_“Well.” Jeremy said “Look at him.”_

_Moreau was looking back at Jeremy with that same awestruck look._

_“Later.” Jeremy said. Now we help Kevin._

_Reviving Kevin was a long, tedious process. Andrew tried to help as much as he could, but as much as he wanted to be, he wasn't a necromancer._

_He was useless._

_“Can you help Moreau?” Jeremy asked him. “I know he's on the brink of death, but he is technically still alive, which my magic can't help.”_

_“I know some basic healing, I'm not as good as Renee.”_

_“Do what you can, call her if possible. Make sure he's alright.”_

_Andrew looked at the bronze chain around Moreau's broken ankle. “He's still Bound. He will have to go back to Riko after this.”_

_“Stop talking about me like I can't hear you.” Moreau said. “I know what my fate is. Leave me to it.”_

_“Jesus, Moreau, let me patch you up.” Andrew said. His hand ran back through his hair. “Surprising as it may seem, not everyone you know is a sadistic maniac.” Andrew looked apathetically at Jeremy. “Do you have anywhere I could patch up the weeping willow?”_

_“There's an examination room behind that door,” Jeremy replied, indicating the door in question._

_Andrew started walking to the room without checking if Moreau was following._

_Andrew checked the cabinets in the exam room. Basic spell supplements, tears of joy, baby's laughter, true remorse. Nothing special. Andrew didn't really need any of it, so he closed the first cabinet and moved to the second. The tell-tale clink of Moreau's chain alerted Andrew to his presence._

_“Tell me Moreau, what's your name?”_

_Moreau's decisive sniff was an indication of his discomfort. “Moreau.”_

_Andrew rummaged in the cabinets some more. “Hmm. Try again.”_

_“I'm not lying!” Moreau defended._

_“But you're not telling the truth either.” Andrew said, finally turning around. “Just tell me, I need your name for the spell.”_

_Moreau sighed, resigned. “I can’t, I’ve got a curse.”_

_“We've  all got a curse. Tell me your name.”_

_“No, listen, I_ **_can't._ ** _That's the curse.”_

_Andrew sighed. Of course. Riko really was the worst. Names were key ingredients in almost every healing spell. Restricting Jean's ability to give his made every punishment Riko tried to give him much more permanent. Andrew buried his head in his hands in frustration._

_“Okay. Okay.” Jean said, almost nervously. “Blue denim pants.”_

_Andrew looked up in confusion. “What?”_

_“Blue. Denim. Pants. Don't make me say it again.”_

_“What do jeans have to do with anything?” Andrew asked, utterly bewildered._

_“That's my name.”_

_“Your name is Jeans?”_

_Jeans groaned. “Singular. Rhymes with Dawn. Moreau is my surname.” He shuffled awkwardly and lifted himself up onto the examination bed with visible pain. He looked like he had given away something  very valuable._

_Andrew nodded and contemplated the importance of this new information. He tested it out. “Jean Moreau.”_

_Jean's mouth opened like he was about to say something, but closed it, and a tear rolled down his cheek. His hand trailed up to his face and he seemed surprised to find his fingers came away wet. “I'm sorry, it's just… it's been so long since I've heard anyone say my name.” He wiped his face. “I'm going to have to go back, aren't I?”_

_“Well, how do you break your chain?”_

_Jean sighed and looked away. “When Riko dies. Or…” Jean trailed off._

_“Or what?”_

_“Nothing. It'll never happen.”_

_“Okay then.” Andrew shrugged. “You ready?”_

_“Sure.” Jean conceded. “Why not.”_

_“Can I touch you?”_

_Jean nodded. He looked surprised that Andrew had asked._

_Andrew pulled Jean close to him and placed a hand behind where his heart was._

_“Be Well, Jean Moreau.”_

_Andrew didn't know if it was working until Jean let out a shuddering gasp. Andrew felt Jean’s breath on his shoulder. The bruises on Jean’s skin faded, his cuts scabbed over, faded, scarred, and then new, soft skin grew to cover those as well. Jean didn’t stop letting out those heartbreaking little relieved sighs. Jeans bones slowly ground their way back in place. Andrew got the impression that he was so used to pain that healing was an entirely new feeling._

_Jean laughing through tears when Andrew finished the spell. Andrew meant to step back, but before he could, Jean’s arms wrapped around him and pulled him into an almost spine-shattering embrace, like he needed Andrew to survive. Andrew felt constricted and for a moment his mind flashed back to-_ **_no don’t think about that_ ** _\- before he came back to himself and realized that. He was sniffing and sobbing and Andrew couldn’t do anything but hug him back._

_Jean let out a sigh that was equal parts catharsis and resignation._

_Jean let Andrew go, slowly. Andrew felt a wet patch on the back of his shirt, but he felt wise enough not to mention it._

_“I’m sorry.” Jean sniffed._

_“Don’t be.” Andrew replied. “You want to take a look at the brand new you?” He gestured to a mirror in the corner of the room._

_Jean stood and slowly, cautiously took a look at his face, his arms, his neck, a slow methodical check._

_“Do you know any glamours?” Jean asked._

_“Why?”_

_Jean turned to look at Andrew. “Because Riko is not going to like it if I go back to him scarless.”_

_Jeremy opened the door then and it all came crashing back down on Andrew._

_Kevin._

_Jeremy opened his mouth and it seemed like he had something to say, but then he saw Moreau in the corner and lost his train of thought._

_“You’re looking better.” Was all he said._

_“I’m feeling better.” Moreau replied, and refused to look at Jeremy._

_“Knox?” Andrew asked._

_Jeremy frowned, and Andrew’s heart lurched. “I’m almost done, but he needs something.”_

_“What?”_

_“Someone else’s death.” Jeremy looked back at Kevin’s corpse. “I’d give him mine, but I don’t have one._

_Andrew nodded. “If I give him mine, what happens to me?”_

_Jeremy frowned. “You’ll never die.”_

_“Is that so bad?” Jean asked from the corner._

_Jeremy looked at him, unreadably. “Yes.”_

_Andrew looked behind Jeremy at Kevin. His cold, pale body was deteriorating by the second._

_Andrew looked back at Jeremy._

_“Do it”_

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos/comments if you like it! Your comments fuel me.


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